


Very Bad Day’s End

by bkwrm523



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bkwrm523/pseuds/bkwrm523
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the title says; the reader has a terrible day, Dean makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Very Bad Day’s End

Tonight was the night.  Your boyfriend, Nick’s birthday was tonight.  You had a special surprise planned.  You’d made reservations at the best restaurant in town, put on your best black dress, and under it… a brand new surprise for you him.  One that had cost you a fortune at Victoria’s Secret.

You fidget on your seat, glancing at your phone to make sure that, yes, it really is only five minutes since you last looked.  You and Nick have been dating for almost a year, and lately he’s been more distant.  You’re hoping to reignite some sparks tonight.  You had to do some pestering to get Nick to agree to the restaurant; it’s one of the most expensive in the city, and he didn’t like spending the money.  Finally, he had agreed to meet you there.  Nick had been spending a lot of time at work lately; some special project that kept requiring him to stay after hours.  You had tried hard not to be suspicious.  Sure, it was a little fishy-sounding.  But relationships were built on trust, right?  If you wanted this to work, you had to be willing to trust him.  So for months, you’d been trying to smother the anxious butterflies in your stomach and be happy for the man you’d semi-retired from hunting for.

Only semi-retired, though.  You couldn’t bring yourself to give it up completely.  You still recieved occasional calls from other hunters, mainly the Winchesters, with research requests.  Sam and Dean had been friends for too long for you to be willing to cut off all contact.  You’d had the biggest crush on Dean forever, but eventually you’d had to grow up and face the fact that he didn’t feel the same way.  Then you’d met Nick, and had a home for the first time in a long time.  He loves you, and you think you love him.  So hey, why not give it a try?  Relationships take work, right?

You hate how much you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.

Finally, Nick showed,  albeit about ten  minutes late.  You brush off the part of your brain trying to warn you of the worst.  It’s only ten minutes.  He probably got stuck in traffic.  Right?

You stood when he reached your table, forcing a smile to the surface and giving him a one-armed hug.

“Hey, babe.  You look great.”  Nick smiled back, looking and sounding tired and unenthusiastic.  It must have been a long day.

“Thanks.”  You both sat down.  “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered you a steak.”  Nick was always praising the way they made steak here.  Nick gives you a flat look.

“You know, I might have wanted to make that decision for myself.”

“I’m sorry.”  You stutter after a moment, genuinely surprised.  “You love their steak here, and I thought-”

“Look, that’s it.”  Nick threw down the napkin he holds, starting to unfold it and put it in his lap.  “I tried to make this work.  But you, you’re- you’re controlling, you never compromise… you even _forgot_ that today’s my birthday!”

“I didn’t forget, Nick, I-”

“We’re done.  I’ve been seeing someone else for a few months now.  I can’t pretend this is working anymore.”  Nick had hardly sat down, but already he was leaving the restaurant.  You should be yelling at him, you should be countering his arguments.  Hell, you’d even be happy with pleading him to stay.  But all you can do is sit there, stunned and watch him walk out of your life.

_At least you’re not living together_ , the one working part of your brain snaps at you.  You should have been more suspicious when Nick hadn’t wanted to rush into anything.  Instead, you’d just been happy, taken it as a sign that he was taking you seriously.

Somewhere in the middle of your churning thoughts, your waiter returned with the salad you’d ordered.  You hadn’t ordered _yourself_ anything yet; you’d figured if Nick hadn’t wanted the steak, you would have eaten it and let him order something else.

If he’d let you explain that far.

“Would you like the steak to go?”  Your waiter suggests gently, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Yes, thank you.”  You told him, managing a genuine-looking smile.  If there was one thing you could do, and do well, it was pretend you were fine.

After your mother had been killed by a vampire, your father had turned to hunting and taken you in the life with him.  A few years of grief and alcoholism had turned him abusive, until you’d run into the Winchesters when you were fresh out of high school.  Tears only made your father angrier, so you’d become a master of pretending your father _hadn’t_ just spent an hour screaming and hitting you for double-checking that the weapons were loaded and ready.  Dean had spotted a bruise, however, and you’d been a second too slow in explaining it away with a smile and a joke, and John had made sure he wouldn’t come near you again.

Honestly, you mused as you picked at your salad, that was probably half the reason you’d taken up with Nick.  He worked out obsessively, and worked security.  Part of you must have figured if your father came for you again, Nick could and would have sent him packing.

You don’t have an appetite, trying to process all of Nick’s words.  How easily he assumed the worst of you, how he accused you of being unwilling to compromise (read: occasionally not in the mood for sex seven days a week), that he’d been cheating on you, and that he hadn’t even let you explain your side of things.

Half of your salad had gone, and the too-kind waiter left the box with the steak and the check on the table, after offering you a dessert and wine menu.  Smart man.  You pulled out your wallet and left him a big tip; mostly for being so kind and knowing that you just wanted space.

You are jolted out of your thoughts by someone sitting down across from you at the table.  You glance up from your salad (fuck it, it’s more than half gone; close enough to being done), and let the fork clatter down on the plate.  Dean Winchester is _not_ who you expected to see tonight.

“I’m really sorry,” Dean began.  “I know I’m interrupting something.  I just-I really need your help.”  His leather jacket was torn on one sleeve, and you think you spot bloodstains on his black tshirt.  You sit up straighter in your chair, grateful for the distraction of something dire.

“Nothing I can’t put off.”  You tell Dean, easily hiding your hurt in a straight-to-business tone.  “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam.  They, uh, someone has him.  I can’t charge in there alone, and I don’t know how long-”

“I already paid.”  You interrupted Dean, reaching behind you and grabbing the purse you slung across the chair back.  You stand, pulling the shoulder strap of your purse over your shoulder and grabbing the packaged steak.  “We can go now.  Tell me on the way.”  Dean looks relieved at your quick acceptance, and leads the way to his car parked outside.

“Sorry again.”  Dean said as he drove the Impala… somewhere, the tires screeching as he wasted no time in getting to his brother.  “Kinda looks like you were-”

“What are we dealing with?”  You interrupted Dean.  It’s been _minutes_ since your now ex-boyfriend broke up with you in a public restaurant _and_ told you he’s been unfaithful.  You have absolutely no desire to rehash it.  Sam’s life at stake will, hopefully, make Dean emotional enough to ignore how hurt you are.  You ruthlessly push down a surge of guilt at how easily you’re using Sam’s dire straits.

“Vampires.”

“Let me guess: bigger nest than you thought?”

“Yeah.  Something like that”  Dean freed a hand from the wheel and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It pays to scout, Dean.”

“I know, I know.  It’s kinda my fault-I shouldn’t have yelled at him”

“You’re a human being, Dean.  You’re allowed to get angry.  Sam knows better than to take on a nest of vampires alone, no matter how mad you both are.  It isn’t your fault.”  Soothing Dean is easy, and makes it easier to ignore your own throbbing emotional pain.

“Who were you meeting?”  Dean tries to change the subject.

“I’m not armed.”  You ignore his question.  “Do you have something I can borrow in the back?”

“Yeah, no problem.”  Dean looks slightly suspicious, but to your relief doesn’t attempt to bring it up again.  The distance passes quickly, and Dean brings you up to speed on the hunt.  The car stops just outside the city, partially hidden in some trees from a ramshackle farmhouse that looks barely intact.

“Geez, right out of the cliche, aren’t they?”  You comment.  Abandoned building, outskirts of the city.  This was too easy.

“That’s what Sammy and I thought.  Newbie vamps, easy marks.”

“There’s gotta be more to it, or they would never have gotten the drop on Sam.”  You retrieve a machete and a tiny pistol from the trunk.  Dean turns from you to close the trunk lid and you flip the safety on and stash the pistol in your bra.  Dresses don’t typically have pockets; there aren’t many other places to put it.  Dean turns around, sees you holding just the machete and frowns.

“Where’d you put the gun?”  Dean asks curiously.

“You might need to buy me dinner first, Dean.”  Your response automatically drops into sarcasm.

“I would, but it looks like someone beat me to it.”  Dean’s reply sends an unexpected stab of pain through you; you roll your eyes to cover the feeling.

“I thought we were here to rescue your brother, not flirt.”  That’s a low blow, and you feel bad for using it.  You don’t want Dean asking the wrong questions, though.  Seeing Dean again after who knows how long sends shivers down your spine every time he smiles at you.  You thought a year with Nick would have killed your attraction, but apparently not.

You still love Dean.

You don’t think you can handle Dean’s sympathy tonight.  The anger in his voice on your behalf, the sympathy in his eyes, and the warm hugs that make you feel so safe and forget the world around you.  Not tonight.

It’s an unfortunate truth of being a female hunter that this isn’t the first time you’ve fought in a dress.  It doesn’t matter how rarely you hunt, how careful at planning you are, how rarely you wear dresses, or even how many changes of clothes you stash in strategic places.  Some day, you’re going to be in a situation where you have to rush into a hunt without having time to change into pants and comfortable shoes.  You have a few rules you apply to yourself for such situations.  One, all heels are weapons.  Choose with care.  Two, forget about your skirt.

Your heels tonight are black, and small.  You avoid heels that are _too_ high for situations just like this (which takes an enormous amount of self control, but is doable).  And they’re stilettos.  This would hardly be the first time that you’ve used your shoes as a weapon.  They’re comfortable enough that you are confident that the pain won’t distract you.  As far as your skirt goes, it’s about knee length.  You know that you are definitely going to flash _someone_ tonight, and you calmly accept this fact.  If you let yourself worry about being modest in front of _monsters_ that you plan on killing tonight, you’ll just get yourself killed.

To be honest, the first time a monster broke off his attack and was stunned at getting a glimpse of your panties was surprisingly freeing.  Complimentary, a little creepy, and brought you a sense of fierce glee.  The last emotion because his shock had given you just enough time to kill him.  So your panties had _literally_ been the last thing he saw.

That is somehow a lot funnier than it should be, but never mind.

It’s been so long since you were actually out killing something, you’re afraid at how rusty you must be.  You let Dean take point without arguing, and try to make up for your lack of recent experience by being extra alert.  Fortunately, your latent anger at Nick is providing enough fuel to make up for any inadequacies.  You’re not sure how long you’re in there with Dean; an hour?  The surprise turns out to be as simple as a trap door.  Easily visible now as it’s still light outside.  If Sam had come there in the dark, it might have been enough to miss.

Sam is hanging in a corner, hands cuffed together and attached to a space of wall above his head.  You distantly wonder how in the hell and of the vampires managed to get Sam’s hands there, or even why they had wall-mounted cuffs pre-prepared that high on the wall, anyway.  The Winchester moose’s hands are stretched out above his head, arms just long enough to reach without straining or bending his elbows.  Anyone else, though, would have their legs swinging above ground in order to reach all the way up there.

Maybe that was the point.

A tripwire you and Dean both miss near the entrance has vampires pouring out of the trap door, but together you and Dean manage.

Eventually, you’re surrounded with nothing but vampire bodies.  And your dress is probably ruined.

You don’t even want to think about what this has done to your brand new, not-worn-yet Victoria’s Secret surprise you have on.  You’re probably going to have to throw it away without even breaking it in.

Shame.

Dean reaches Sam’s side first, whipping out his lockpicks and going to work on his handcuffs.

“Sammy?  Stay with me, Sammy.”  Dean sounds a little frantic.  You can’t blame him; you know how close they are.  You’d be frantic in his place, too.  Well, you  _are_ frantic; Sam’s your friend.  You follow Dean over to Sam, careful not to get in Dean’s way when you lift a hand to Sam’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

“He’s alive.”  You tell Dean, both of you letting out a sigh of relief at the news.  “I can’t tell if they fed on him, though.”

“No.”  Dean replied shortly.  “He’d be lookin’ way worse if they had.  Probably just needs a nap.”  Dean sounds as though he’s trying to convince himself.

“Still, Cas probably wouldn’t mind if we asked him to take a look, just to be on the safe side.”  You reminded Dean gently.  The handcuffs click open, and Sam falls into your and Dean’s waiting arms.  You both sling an arm over your shoulders and take Sam out to the car.

“Shoulda thought of that.”  Dean muttered as you both settled Sam in the passenger seat of the impala.  “Cas!  Need you out here, buddy.”

“What is it, Dean?”  Castiel’s arrival, as usual, makes you both jump.

“We just need you to make sure Sam’s okay.”  You reply, skipping over Dean’s usual irritated protest over Castiel’s abrupt entrance.  Castiel nods and walks over to Sam, not sparing a greeting for you.  You aren’t offended; taking care of the wounded is more important.  Castiel places two fingers on Sam’s forehead, and you’re all silent for a moment.

“He’ll be fine.”  Castiel spoke finally into the anxious silence.  “I’ve healed his remaining injuries, but there was still some blood loss.  He’ll sleep for a hour or two.”

“Thanks, Cas.”  Dean told the angel.  “We’ll see you back at the bunker.”

“It’s good to see you again.”  Castiel turned to you, acknowledging your presence.  You smile at him.

“You too, Cas.  We’ll have to catch up some time.”

“I would like that.”  Castiel replies, returning your smile.  Then he vanished.

“Still not any better at good-byes, is he?”  You ask Dean, chuckling.

“Nah, he’s still the same old Cas.  Come on; i’ll give you a ride to your car.”

“I took a cab.”  You tell Dean as you slide into the backseat, and Dean puts the car into gear.  “Can I get a ride back to my apartment?  You guys are welcome to crash there, if you don’t already have a motel.”

“That’d be cool, thanks.  Your boyfriend won’t mind?”  Dean’s eyes are too sharp on you in the rear view mirror.  You swallow.

“He’s out of town.”  You lie smoothly.  “You guys are old friends; he won’t mind.”  You quickly give Dean directions to your apartment, trying to move the conversation away from such dangerous territory.

“Cool.”  Dean answers.  You suppress a relieved sigh as he seems to drop the subject.  “Still dating Nick?”

“Uh-huh.”  That lie was harder, and you feel a knife twisting in your gut.  None of it shows on your face.

“If he’s out of town, how come I saw him driving away from the place I found you?”

You froze.  Crap.  Dean already knows.  Or suspects part of it.

“Dean…” You trail off and sigh, rubbing your forehead.  Dean has to be pissed at you for lying to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.  Talk to me.”  Dean’s voice is supra singly soft and gentle.  You glance up at his eyes in the mirror, still fixed on yours.  There is no anger there; just gentle sympathy and concern.  You sigh again and deflate in your seat, resting your elbow on the door and hiding your head in your hands.  You don’t think you can look at him while you do this.

“We broke up.”  You blurt out.

“What, just now?!”  Dean asks incredulously.  “He had to take you out to a place like that to tell you he was dumping you?!”  A little anger enters Dean’s voice, all aimed at Nick.

“That place was my idea.  It’s his birthday.  I was going to surprise him.  He barely let me say hi before he accused me of being distant, forgetting his birthday, told me he’s been cheating on me and said we were done.”  There’s not much point in trying to hide anything from Dean now.  You feel almost lighter just for having told someone.  No less painful, though.  There is silence for a long moment, until you finally look back up, unable to resist your curiosity.  “Dean?”  You ask hesitantly.

“Son of a bitch.”  Dean swore gruffly.  You can’t see his face in the mirror, but his green eyes are _livid_.  “The _fuck_ does he get off- you deserve better than him, y/n.”

It’s completely stupid how quickly your eyes well up with tears at Dean’s protective rage.  You can’t help it, though; your emotions have run the gamut today from nervous to excited and happy to disappointed and devastated to furious.  You feel wrung out and exhausted, and start crying despite yourself.  As bruised and bloody as you are from the vampire nest, crying probably just completes how awful you must look.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that.”  Dean urges you softly.  “Hold on, sweetheart.  We’re almost there.”

“I’m okay.”  You reassure Dean between sobs, unconvincingly.  You’re anything but fine right now, as Dean must be able to tell.

Dean continues to murmur soothing things as he hurries to your apartment.  When he pulls into the spot, you see his eyes flicker, torn on what to do first.  Sam is, after all, still passed out in the passenger seat.

“Let’s get Sam inside.”  You order Dean, trying to wipe at your eyes.

“Yes ma’am.”  Dean replies, trying for teasing.  You give him a weak smile, meeting him next to Sam’s door as you hoist him up together.  Fortunately, you’re only on the second floor.  So not too many stairs.

“My goodness!”  Mrs. Lindsey, an old retired widow living on your floor, spots you three in your hallway.  “Is everything alright, dear?”  Mrs. Lindsey (Anne, as she insisted you call her) is far from the usual stereotype.  She is friendly and outgoing, and was the first to welcome you to the building when you first moved in.  From the way she’s eyeing Sam and Dean, she’s probably waiting for you to give her the “high sign” as she put it, that you’re in trouble and she should call the police.  Without specifying what exactly the high sign was.  You give her a wide smile.

“Yeah, just some old friends came to visit, and someone had a few too much to drink.”  You told her, somehow easily hiding your pain at the conversation you and Dean had just had.  Anne chuckled.

“Oh, dear, I remember those days.  I hope you have plenty of asprin and tea!  Do you need me to get the door for you, dear?”

“No, that’s fine.  I think we got it, thanks.”  You waved to her with your free hand as she left.

You and Dean reach your apartment, and you fish your keys out with a minimum of difficulty.  Getting Sam onto the bed in the spare bedroom is slightly more difficult.  Once he’s on the bed, Dean waves you out of the room and starts removing Sam’s shoes.  You retreat to the kitchen, cleaning the pile of dirty dishes out of a need to have something to do.  Your first sign that Dean has rejoined you is a pair of arms encircling your waist from behind, pulling you into a hug.  You sigh and relax, turning around and burying your face in his chest.  He stands there for awhile, letting you cry into him, before he walks you both over to the couch and sits down.

“Should never have let you leave.”  Dean murmurs after awhile.  “I just, you were getting out.  You seemed so happy.  I wanted that for you.  Me and Sam both did.”

“I didn’t want out.”  You mumble, sniffing and trying to wipe some of the tears away.  Between the blotchy-crying skin tone and running makeup, you had to look awful.  “I just…. needed some time.”

“We’ve all been there.”  Dean replies, chuckling lightly.

“Too hard to be in the same room as-” whoops.  Did you mutter that out loud?  No, no.  Maybe Dean didn’t hear your almost-love confession.

“Same room as what?”  Dean asked.  So he _did_ hear it.  Fuck.

“Sam’s hair.  I mean, it was too hard to not just take some scissors one night while he was asleep, and instant haircut.”  Well, _that_ was convincing.  Dean would definitely drop the subject now.  Fuck.

Dean laughed louder then.  “I’m with you there, sweetheart.  You should have told me.  We could have pinned him down and done it together.  Family project.”  Dean’s comment makes you giggle.

“Seriously, though.”  Dean asks when you stop laughing.  “What was so hard?  Was-was it me?”  Dean clears his throat awkwardly.  You glance up at him, startled, to see a hurt puppy lurking, hidden in his eyes.

“No, I love you!”  You exclaim, quick to assuage his pain.  Then your eyes get huge, processing what you just blurted out.

“You-I-what?”  Dean actually stutters, and you smother a giggle.  Dean Winchester, stuttering?  You swallow and drop your eyes.  No sense hiding anything now.

“I couldn’t keep staying there, knowing you don’t feel the same way.  I needed some time to get-” your confession is cut short by his hand on your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?  Could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”  Dean said, eyes fixed on your lips.  Your breath catches at what he’s implying.

“Dean, do you mean you-”

Dean is, apparently, tired of talking it out.  His lips seal onto yours, a moan emerging as he eagerly tastes you, thrusting his tongue in your mouth and gently cupping your face with one hand as he dominates the kiss.  You whimper, lifting your hands to grasp blindly at his arm and shirt, desperate to get closer to him.  Your positions on the couch make that difficult, however.

The kiss quickly turns passionate, and when Dean finally breaks from your lips, you gasp for breath.

“Fuck, I wanted to do that forever.”  Dean gasped at you.  You restrain yourself from diving back into his lips, stand and tug on his arm.

“Come on.  Bedroom.”  You urge him.  Dean grins at you, rising and using your grip on his hand to pull you into him.  Your breath leaves you, overwhelmed by his presence, his height, his warmth, and the sheer aura of sexiness surrounding him.  His arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to his chest, pinning your arms between your two.  Dean bends down slightly, dropping his face until his mouth lights on your neck, kissing and sucking lightly on your pulse point.

“Where?”  Dean mumbles around a mouthful of your skin.  You inhale shakily, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a moan, and your eyes flutter shut in bliss.  It takes a few moments for his question to penetrate the fog of lust and desire that has permeated your brain.  When it does, you gesture towards a hallway.  Did Dean even see you?  He still has his head buried in your neck.

He must have, however.  His hands travel down to your ass, clenching tightly and lifting until you follow the unspoken directions and jump up, lifting your legs around him.  Dean hoists you up easily, his hardening cock positioned right at your entrance.  Dean inhales shakily against you, pausing for a moment before continuing his mouth’s work slowly traveling down your neck.

The room moves around you as Dean hurries to your bedroom, devouring you hungrily.  You whimper and rub yourself frantically against his hardening crotch, drawing groans from him.  Finally, you reach your bedroom.  Dean kicks the door shut and tosses you down onto the bed.

It comes back to you then what you’re wearing and how dirty you must be.  How dirty you both are.

“Dean…” you start, making him hesitate.  “We’re a mess.  Maybe we should do this in the shower?”  Dean lets out a growl so soft, you almost miss it.

“Fuck, yes.”  Dean replies, desire making him desperate.  Dean reaches for you, but you evade, standing on your own and scurrying into the bathroom before he can delay you more.

The apartment is well worth its high rent, as the master shower is huge.  Plenty of room for you both.  You kick off your shoes on the way in, and reach in to start the hot water.  That’s as far as you get before you feel Dean pressing against you from behind.  He pulls your hair back off one shoulder before dropping his head back to it, sucking again right where he left off.  The only sound you can manage is a soft ‘ooh’ as your head falls back onto him, only capable of submitting to the attention.

Dean’s hands travel behind your back, confusing you until you feel your dress tug and hear the zipper go down.  Moments later, the dress pools at your feet.  Dean steps back, and you turn around to see him looking at you hungrily.  Then you remember; the ruined lingerie.  You’d bought a black babydoll slip and forgone panties.  You glance down at it, seeing rips and flecks of blood and dirt that confirm; it’s ruined.  You sigh and reach to take it off.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on.”  Dean says, stepping forwards and grabbing your hands to still them.  “I think that’s my job.”

“First of all, it’s ruined, Dean.  I’m gonna have to throw it away.  Second, you first, Winchester.”  You inform him sternly.

“Yes ma’am.”  Dean replies, grinning.  He pulls his black shirt off and tosses it on the floor, hands going to his jeans to complete the process until he’s only wearing a pair of brown silk boxers.  You bite your lip, not bothering to hide how much you’re enjoying the view.  Dean smirks back, stepping forward back into your space and kissing you, two sets of hands fumbling at each other’s remaining underwear until you’re both naked.  You manage the wherewithal to step away from him, backing into the shower and beckoning him with a finger.  Dean’s cock is hard and ready by now, his eyes taking all of you in as the warm water hits your naked body.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”  Dean breathes, cock bouncing in excitement.  He steps into the shower with you, closing the sliding glass door behind him, and pushes your back against the wall.  The water pouring over you both, Dean leans down and sucks one nipple into his mouth.  You both moan in tandem, and Dean brings a hand up to tweak your neglected nipple.  You yelp as his free hand finds its way between your legs.

“Damn, baby.  Soaked already.  That for me?”  Dean growls, his mouth leaving your nipple, and he stands back up to breathe into your ear as his fingers continue to work between your legs.

“You, Dean.”  You pant, barely able to think with his hand between your legs, fingers buried in you and thumbing your clit.  “Only you.  Always you.”  Dean groans at the unprompted praise.  His hand pulls out of your folds, drawing a whine from you.  The whine turns into a gasp when Dean drops to his knees in front of you.  Dean grabs one of your legs and pulls it over his shoulder.  His eyes lock on yours, holding you both still for a long moment.

Much too slowly, Dean leans forward puts his lips to your pussy.  His eyes stay locked on yours until his tongue darts out, probing you.  He tastes your cum and groans, fluttering his eyes shut.  You bury one hand in his hair and drop your head back onto the wall, surrendering to the feeling.  Dean’s hands grasp your hips firmly, preventing any thrusting and steadying you both.  Your hips try to rut into his tongue’s caresses, and steady whimpers and cries fall from your lips.  Dean groans beneath you, unbelievably euphoric considering the circumstances.

“Deeeeeeaaaan.”  You plead.  “Dean, need more.  Please.”  Dean groans, and one hand leaves your hips.  Too many seconds later, his mouth moves up to suck on your clit, drawing sharp yells from you, and a finger thrusts searchingly inside you.  Your heel digs into his back and you cry his name.  Inside you, a second finger joins the first, thrusting until you see stars.  Finally, he finds your gspot.  You scream and come, spurting uncontrollably into his waiting mouth.  Dean growls and laps you hungrily, devouring every drop as your hand tightens in his hair.  Dean keeps licking you until and after you finish, continuing until you whine in protest as his tongue tortures your oversensitive pussy and you tug him away.

Dean finally breaks from your cunt, standing and easily catching you in his arms when your knees threaten to buckle.  Dean holds you, nipping at your lips while he waits for you to come back to your senses.

“Dean, need you inside me.”  You plead with him, desperate for his cock.  Dean groans at your words, giving you a longer kiss.  His cock _finally_ brushes your folds, and you gasp, breaking the kiss.  Dean’s lips chase yours as your head falls back to the wall, your insides stretching not-quite painfully as Dean’s tongue takes up residence in your mouth.  Then, he starts thrusting, and even he can’t keep the kiss going.  Your hands claw and clench at his shoulders.  His hips pound into yours, little grunts falling from his mouth with every thrust.  His head falls, nipping lightly at your neck and drawing more moans from you.  His hands were everywhere.  Stroking down your back, grabbing and clenching your ass, fondling your breasts, tweaking your clit.  His cock is enormous, filling and pounding every inch of you.  Dean’s hand finally settles on your clit, stroking and tweaking until you see stars, and have to fight off your orgasm.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”  Dean purrs in your ear, his tongue darting out to lick a drop of water off your neck.  You scream and let go, exploding on his cock.  Your cunt tightens around his cock until Dean’s yell comes in your ear and he explodes inside you.  Dean’s arms tighten around you and his head falls on your shoulder as his hips piston hard into yours.  Dean’s cock brushes your gspot, milking your orgasm on and on.

Finally, you both finish, and Dean slumps forward into the wall, panting.  After a long moment of you both trying to get your breath back, Dean’s hands fall to your hips and he carefully pulls out of you.  Dean looks down at you, capturing you in tender green eyes, and graces your lips with a soft kiss.

“Well, at least you don’t have to sleep on the couch now?”  You suggest, trying to lighten the moment with a joke.  A smirk flashes on Dean’s face, making you swallow at the predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Sweetheart, as soon as we’re done in here, I’m taking you back to the bed and eating you until we wake up Sammy.”


End file.
